Airborne
by conversingCorpses
Summary: I love flying. I always have, ever since I was little. When I was actually able to understand what a bird was and what it could do, I was hooked. But I'm not just hooked now. I'm obsessed. And it would lead to far worse things...


*sigh* I hate late nights like this… I was seriously trying to type up Graphic Details, so I could finally get the first chapter up, but inspiration struck, and I got this. It's based off the crappy Japanese poem on my profile that I wrote (No one has permission to use it unless they verify it with me, first.), and I got this. The poem was kinda s'posed to be like some kind of tribute to Deidara, or something, seeing as I just recently saw him die. This is something like that, but it's modern day, and there are no ninja and schtuff. Let's see how this all unfolds, m'kay? I have absolutely no idea where this is supposed to be going, so… *chuckles* Anyway, let's begin.

*Hidan~ Since Deidara is being a whiny bitch and won't come out of his damn room to do the fucking disclaimer because he doesn't want to read about him dying like the pansy he is, I will.

*growls* No Dei-bashing, Hidan… or I'll get the wood chipper, again…

*Hidan~ *has a small heart attack* HOLY SHIT, WOMAN! CALM THE FUCK DOWN! Uh… Stitchy doesn't own me, the Akatsuki (no matter how much she wishes…), or Naruto, the little shit… She didn't, doesn't, and never will. So no suing or bitching, m'kay?

*eyetwitch* nice.

*Hidan~ *gulp*

*sigh* anyway, let's just get on with it…

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><p>Airborne<p>

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><p>I love flying. I always have, ever since I was real little. The first time I was actually able to comprehend what a bird was, and what it could do, I was hooked. When I was seven, I finally told my mom about my little obsession. She just laughed and told me that it was adorable. She sad she's take me up one day, maybe in one of those big hot air balloons, or something. She kept telling me that, over and over, telling me she'd take me up there, one day. A couple years later, she said she'd booked us airline tickets for the following weekend. I was so excited; I could barely sit still for five minutes during school. I kept glancing out the window, wondering what it'd be like up in that big blue sky, floating up there with the clouds. I even wondered if I could sit on them, even though I knew it wasn't scientifically possible.<p>

The day came, and we piled our suitcases into the car. We were supposed to be going to Okinawa to visit some distant cousins, or something, but I didn't care. My mind was focused on the thought of flying. So focused, in fact, that I didn't notice anything wrong until about five minutes after it happened. We had been blindsided by a drunkard in one of those big pick-up trucks. My mother had shards of glass protruding from her chest and arms and legs, and her neck was bent at an impossible angle. I knew she was dead without even feeling for a pulse. There was a large piece of glass protruding from where her heart should be. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I simply removed myself from the car, found the nearest pay-phone, and called 911. They were there in about five minutes, as the headquarters wasn't that far from the airport. They questioned me, asked me what happened. I told them with all seriousness that I had no idea, that I didn't even notice we had crashed for a good five minutes, at least, as I was too preoccupied with thoughts of flying. All I got was blank stares, but they let me go.

They managed to save my bag from the wreckage, and then sent me to live with my cousin, Hidan, who was the one we were going to visit in Okinawa, apparently. He had no respect for personal space or secrecy, and went through all my journals and things while I was out of the house, the ones I kept all my thoughts about flying in. He called me a nut and tortured me about it a bit, but thankfully he never told his parents. If he did, they would have put me in the nut house, for sure.

I lived with them for several years, before Hidan told me of his own secret obsession. He had a craving to see the blood of others spilled, staining the floor and whatever other surfaces it could land on. He said he's like to see it all done by him in the name of this god he picked up from one of out vacations to Europe. I called him a screwed up guy and laughed with him about it, something he hadn't done with me. I teased him about it, asking if he had sacrificed anyone good, lately. He never really answered, until one night. He came home covered in blood and wounds, grinning madly. I nearly had a heart attack, but I still managed to use our little joke. He simply smiled and nodded, then went into the bathroom to clean up. A few days later, all his wounds were healed. I asked him how, and he simply took me into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the butcher knives that my Aunt Sunea and Uncle Kēji kept in the kitchen for reasons that are beyond me, and stabbed himself right in the heart. He just stood there and grinned at me, the knife gleaming as it protruded from his chest. I felt really light headed as I watched him, but I was too horrified to move. I watched the blood seep from the wound, staining his new white shirt crimson. I felt bile rise in my throat, and I bolted from the room to the bathroom. I heard him come in as I kneeled before the porcelain throne, vomiting my guts out. I heard him set the knife on the counter and wash out the wound. He moved my long hair out of my face as I emptied my stomach, and when I was done, joked about how he knew not to do that in front of me, again.

Several days later, he walked into my room, and sat on the edge of my bed, watching me as I worked with the clay I came to grow so fond of over the years. It's the only thing that kept me sane anymore, seeing as I knew that I likely wouldn't ever be able to fly, as airline tickets are so expensive, nowadays. After about half an hour, he moved to get up, but I stopped him with a question, one that had been plaguing my mind for weeks:

"Do you ever think I'll be able to fly?"

He stared at me for a little bit before speaking rather slowly, saying that since I had helped him with his obsession with my teasing and all, that he would help me to come up with a good way to fly. I didn't say this, but I already knew how I was going to fly. I had known for a while now, actually. I didn't write it down in my journal; I didn't need to. The Idea was so stuck in my head, even if I wanted to forget it, I knew I never would. It was even such a good Idea, it needed a capital letter. Yes, it was that good. It would take a while to find the right place, but when I did, it would be epic. I just knew it. There were several places that would be perfect for it, but all the ones I could think of were either in a different city, or in America. Damn it, why did everything good have to be there? But, I didn't need America. I could do this on my own, locally. There had to be a place around Okinawa that would be good for it…

He and I brainstormed for several weeks, only half-heartedly on my part. I didn't want his help; didn't _need_ it. I just needed a very high place. Tokyo Tower was a good candidate, but it was too far away. Hidan wanted to take me skydiving, but I was kind of afraid of anything with an engine ever since my mother died, so that was out. He suggested hang-gliding, but I didn't know where we could actually rent a hang glider, and neither did he. Okinawa may be a resort town, but some things were still pretty hard to find. He had more ideas, like jumping off the roof, or something, it wouldn't be high enough. I needed something really tall, so that I could fly for a while. There were more, but being the dimwit he is, they weren't that good. I had stopped paying attention to him after he introduced the 'roof theory', as he called it.

When I wasn't 'thinking up ideas' with Hidan, or at school, or doing homework, I was out walking around Okinawa. I walked all around town, sometimes even into the next town over, trying to find a nice high place. Nothing even came close to what I was looking for. One weekend, my aunt and uncle took us on a vacation to Tokyo. Before we even got there, I knew this was the place. I would fly here.

There were so many tall buildings in Tokyo, I could barely pick one. Tokyo Tower was out, though, seeing as there were guards posted everywhere and glass around the top. Some of the skyscrapers there were too small for my tastes, and were ruled out. We were spending two weeks here, so I knew I'd have plenty of time to scout. About a week in, I had narrowed it down to five buildings. Each was about the same height, except for the last one which was a good two hundred feet taller than the rest. The only reason I didn't automatically choose this one was because there were more cameras and security guards. I knew it would be a big risk, but I was willing to take it. I had to do it. I had to fly.

The last day we were going to spend in Tokyo came all too slowly for me. For everyone else, the end of our trip came far too quickly. Not for me. I had something important to do, other than leave. You see, I didn't plan to do that. Not at all. I planned to fly away. I realize how crazy I must sound to you people, but it is the truth. I planned to fly, no matter the cost. I planned to become airborne that day, to feel the wind rushing about me, to hear it howling in my ears as I flew through the sky. I may not be a bird, but I knew I could fly like one. My logic was simple: Hidan was immortal, so why couldn't I fly? His body changed enough to fit his desires, so why wouldn't mine? It made sense in my head. It really did. I was going to fly, and come hell or high water, I was going to _fly_.

I planned to leave a note so they'd know where I went, why I wouldn't be coming home with them. I even knew what it would say. But I just couldn't find the time to write it over the two weeks. I had been dragged from museum to museum, from stand to stand, having to examine every aspect of life in Tokyo. My aunt and uncle were cultural freaks, and made us do this on every vacation we took. But the day came, and I wrote the note. I made my way to the building, trying my best not to look suspicious. I knew people would try to stop me. They always stopped people who tried to fly like this. I didn't want that to happen, so I settled for fiddling with the strings of my black hoodie as I walked, my dark colored jeans scraping the ground as my red Converse pounded into the pavement. I knew what I was doing, how I was going to fly. No one else was going to know, at least until it was too late to stop me. I was hell-bent on flying, and I'd be damned if anyone ever stopped me.

I was so occupied in my thoughts; I didn't even realize I had made it to the roof of the building until I was peeking over the edge in a way that no one would be able to see me. I knew that it was usually a very busy street, but it was surprisingly empty. Then the reason we had decided to stay two weeks instead of one crossed my mind: There was a festival going on, today. It would be very rare to see anyone on the streets at this time, as everyone would be off having fun at the festival, or at work. I had wanted this to be a bit more public, but it didn't matter. I would fly, empty streets or not. I climbed onto the edge staring down at the ground that was a good six hundred feet below me. I took a deep breath, and grinned madly. I was finally going to fly. This was it.

My heart pounded in my chest, my blood rushed in my ears. The rational side of me was telling me to turn back, to get the hell off the roof. I pushed the voice back. It's not like I ever listened to it, anyway. Whenever I did, bad things happened. I didn't want anything to happen right now, I just wanted to fly. That's all I wanted.

I took another deep breath. My head was buzzing in excitement, and I felt slightly lightheaded. 'Must be all the adrenaline,' I thought. I smiled even wider, and took a step forward.

I plummeted downwards, the wind rushing beneath me. I laughed madly, enjoying every second of the dizzying speed I was falling at. The wind howled in my ears, making it hard to hear anything. It's not like there was anything to hear though, except for my hysterical laughter. Background music would have been nice, though. 'I should have brought my iPod,' I thought as I watched the pavement grow closer and closer.

…Why wasn't I flying? I should be flying! I should be soaring through the sky with the birds, sitting on the clouds, flying off into the sunset! I shouldn't be falling like this! What went wrong! My logic was sound! Flawless!_ Perfect_, even! What was happening!

My mind was racing with the possibilities, wondering what could have happened to make my plans go awry. Nothing came up but the ground as it raced to meet with me. I couldn't think of anything but how I was still flying, in a sense. I was about to die, and all I could think about was flying. I realize that I should have been more concerned with the quickly approaching ground, but I wasn't. I just said, 'Screw it. I'm flying now, and that's all that matters. Maybe Hidan will pray to Jashin for me when I die.'

The ground was really close now, so close that it was frightening. But I wasn't scared. I _couldn't_ be scared. My mind wouldn't let me. It was occupying me with thoughts of flight.

The ground was close to me.

I was close to it.

I didn't want to meet up with it.

It was very excited to meet me.

It threw its arms around me and covered me in its shroud of darkness.

The last thought I ever had before I slammed into the ground was, 'I hope they like the note.'

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><p>Somewhere in Tokyo, a family arrived home to the apartment they were renting from the festival that had taken place that day. They had had to leave their adopted son at home because he wasn't feeling well. When they arrived, the apartment was empty. Where their son had been laying, there was a note. It was a simple note, not even ten words long. The handwriting was sloppy, as though whoever had wrote it was in a hurry. When the family read it, the mother and father simply stared in confusion, wondering what it meant. The brother merely read over the note several more times with a watery smile, seeming to be the only one who got the hidden meaning behind the rushed words. He simply folded it up and placed it in his pocket, walking out of the room with a smile, though the tear streaks on his face spoke of his obvious sadness. He knelt beside a very small shrine that he had erected in his room, and began to pray.<p>

"_I finally found my way to fly, Hidan."_

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><p>Author's Note: Well, that was my attempt at being dark. Not much, but it works well enough. I'm not completely sure why he was so obsessed with flying, though. Or how Hidan became immortal. Though I think the ending was really sweet. I like this. I didn't really have any plot to this, but poor Deidara's so mad at me, now… hell, he's glaring daggers at me right now. And Hidan… Holy Hell! Hidan, are you crying!<p>

*Hidan~ Fuck no! Why would I cry because of some shitty story like that? I've just got allergies, you stupid bitch!

Uh… huh. Whatever. Anyway review, please! I want to hear your comments on Deidara's death! (No matter how sick and/or twisted it may seem…)

*Deidara~ *pale* That… That's how I die, un…?

Oh, no. Your _real_ death is a lot more spectacular. You die rather artistically, actually. Though I still want to strangle Sasuke because of it…

*Deidara~ …what'd he do, un…?

I can't say that, Dei. I'm not allowed to tell, or Masashi Kishimoto would have my ass for ruining it for you.

*Deidara~ Whatever…

*Hidan~ Read and review!

Ja ne~! ^3^

(3,122 words)


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